Chapter 16: The Elevator

Vivian's POV

By six on Tuesday I had been ignored for seven hours by a man who lived in my apartment.

HR had asked me three questions at noon, and I had answered each of them truthfully and badly.

The only thing I'd learned was that a hearing was coming, and that someone had written to them from an address nobody knew.

Tristan had not answered my text.

His office door had been closed all afternoon, with the light on behind it.

I stood in the lobby of the eleventh floor with my coat on, jabbing the down button, and told myself it was a deliverable problem.

A missing husband was only a missing husband.

It was non-billable. I did not carry it.

The elevator came. It was full.

The analyst from the group chat was in the back with a pretzel in a paper bag and the look of a man who had been forgiven.

Four other people from accounting stood against the walls, studying their shoes.

I got in. The doors began to close.

A hand came through the gap, and they opened again.

It was the HR partner, in a pencil skirt and a cream cashmere cardigan.

Tristan was right behind her, holding his coat in one hand.

He saw me and stopped.

"Evening," I said.

"Vivian."

"Mr. Hayes."

"Ms. Stratton."

The HR partner stepped into the car between us.

She put her hand on his sleeve, just above the wrist, and left it there.

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